


The Way Home

by prattery



Series: The Long Way Round [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining Arthur, Reunited and It Feels So Good, but Arthur is a ball of angst, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prattery/pseuds/prattery
Summary: “I thought I‘d never see you again,” Arthur admits in a rush.“Don’t be ridiculous,” Merlin scoffs, turning away with an affectionate smile. Insubordinate, like Arthur remembers. “You don’t seriously think I’d ever truly leave you.”“Yes, that is exactly what I thought,” Arthur thinks, almost hysterical. He spent twenty-nine summers without Merlin by his side—he doesn’t know what else he was supposed to believe.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: The Long Way Round [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693243
Comments: 12
Kudos: 187





	The Way Home

Arthur wakes. He’s not sure where he is.

He stands without difficulty, his chainmail making a crinkling sound as he does. His right hand immediately flies to grab the hilt of his sword—a force of habit. He hasn’t had the need to do that for some time.

He takes in his surroundings. He is near a lake, and not one that he is particularly familiar with. There is a cottage by the side of the lake. He takes a cautious step, intending to walk to the cottage and ask the owner where he is. Not two strides later, he pauses and looks down in surprise.

He feels strong, stronger than he has been for a long time. His movements feel light, the age gone from his joints. He quickens his pace, and that confirms it—he is fleet of foot once more. He breaks into a run then, to see his reflection in the lake water. What Arthur sees leaves him staggered—he is a young man again, in his prime, somewhere between twenty-five to thirty summers old. His hair is thicker and shorter than he remembers, a mop of golden strands upon his crown, and the lines erased from his face.

He looks up and stares at the cottage again. It’s plain and unremarkable, as far as cottages go. Made of greyish stones tinged with blue, big enough to house a person or two. It is the only building in the area.

Arthur knows immediately where he is. He doesn’t know how he knows, but there’s an age-old certainty settling in his bones. This is the day that he will see Merlin again. He was always meant to end up here.

He hears footsteps coming from the general vicinity of the cottage. The source of the sound follows not long after.

It’s Merlin—of course it is. It’s Merlin the way Arthur likes to remember him—a slim, wiry man with pale skin and a shock of thick black hair on his crown. Straight-backed, unbowed by the weight of destiny on his shoulders. The twenty-nine summers he has lived without Merlin has erased some of the finer details from his memory—things like the exact blue of his irises and the delicate set of his cheekbones. His lips, Arthur can’t forget—he has dreamed them for so long, thinking of how Merlin’s lips would feel against his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. Merlin is dressed in the simple clothes that Arthur remembers—brown leather jacket, faded blue tunic and a neckerchief tied around his neck. Servant’s garb. He’s the most magnificent thing Arthur has seen.

Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. It’s difficult to breathe—his lungs feel too large for his chest, and there is an equal measure of nervousness and warmth radiating from his stomach. His heart is aflutter, his throat too tight with the intensity of his emotion. There is joy, too, bubbling from somewhere deep inside, brighter than everything he’s ever known. It further robs him of his breath, threatening to spill out through every pore of his being. He fancies that he can hear his heart pounding, a steady thud-thud-thud in his ribcage. Merlin hasn’t seen Arthur yet, but Arthur doesn’t mind. He is content just to watch. Merlin’s movements are fluid, catlike and almost graceful, and there is none of the clumsiness that Arthur so fondly remembers. As if somehow knowing what Arthur is thinking, Merlin then trips over an errant root, dropping the bundle of firewood that he was carrying. Arthur can hear Merlin’s dramatic sigh from where he stands.

“Merlin,” Arthur chokes out.

Merlin turns to look at him, startled, then breaks into a sunny grin, all teeth and dimples and genuine delight, his joy as bright as Arthur’s. His memory has done him an injustice, it seems—he doesn’t quite remember Merlin’s smile being this sunny. Arthur is wholly unprepared for the effect Merlin’s pure happiness has on him. His heart stutters and skips a beat—it is certainly telling that Merlin still has this kind of effect on him after so long.

Merlin drops the firewood he was picking back up, walking fast towards him. But Arthur stands rooted to the ground, frozen and struck dumb.

Merlin stops walking, leaving a bit of distance between them, frowning at Arthur’s lack of effort to meet him halfway. Arthur forces his legs to move and takes a tentative step, not quite believing that this is real, that Merlin is standing in front of him like he never left. Like it hasn’t been twenty-nine summers since they last saw each other.

Arthur stares, unreserved and unabashed, drinking in the sight of him like a man who has been deserted without water. Merlin’s eyes are blue, squinted against the relentless sunlight. Arthur reckons he can see the specks of gold swimming in the depth of his irises. _Beautiful,_ Arthur thinks. _Absolutely beautiful._

“It has been a while,” says Arthur. His voice comes out rough and thick with emotion.

“It has,” Merlin agrees. His eyes are twinkling. “Longer for you than it is for me, I think.”

"Calling me old, Merlin?" Arthur teases, even as his eyes begin to sting. “I never thought I'd see you again,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Merlin scoffs, turning away with a fond little smile. Insubordinate, like Arthur remembers. “You don’t seriously think I’d ever truly leave you.”

 _Yes, that is exactly what I thought,_ Arthur thinks, almost hysterical. Doesn’t know what else he was supposed to think, after all those years he had spent without Merlin by his side. He didn’t want to believe it, and he spent years furiously denying that Merlin wouldn’t make a miraculous return, but he _had_ come to believe it, as the years continue to pass.

“Arthur—”

“ _Gods,”_ Arthur gasps out, closing his eyes. Revels in the sound of Merlin’s voice, letting it wash over him. Nobody ever speaks his name the way Merlin does.

Arthur can hear Merlin move to close the distance between them. He’d recognise Merlin’s tread anywhere _—_ he doesn't have to open his eyes.

“I have missed you,” Arthur exhales, tremulous, his brows furrowing, his fists clenched tight. He is trembling somewhat fierce. He might unravel if he moves. _I've missed you for so long—_

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers again, sounding very close to him.

“Say it again,” it doesn’t come out like the command Arthur wishes it is—rather, it comes out like a naked plea. Merlin is so close, now. Close enough for Arthur to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough that his breath mingles with Arthur’s own.

“Arthur,” Merlin murmurs. “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur—“

His knees buckle then, but Merlin catches him by his sides before he can hit the ground. Like Arthur always knows he would. Arthur opens his eyes and looks up. Merlin is the only thing that he can see. Arthur lets out a choked sob, then, tearing free from his throat.

Merlin holds him like he’s something fragile, and looks at him with endless concern in his eyes. Maybe he’s right. Arthur is shaking so hard he fancies he can feel his bones rattling in place, threatening to break apart.

“Gods, what happened to you?” Merlin whispers.

 _What happened to me?_ Arthur thinks, incredulous. He could smack Merlin. _You idiot. You died, that’s what happened to me._

He’s weeping, Arthur realises belatedly, astonished. He hasn’t cried over Merlin for a very long time. But Merlin’s presence here stirs up a storm inside him, digging up emotions he thought he had buried behind.

He feels Merlin’s touch keenly. Feels Merlin’s fingerprints leaving imprints on Arthur’s sides. It feels real. Arthur takes a deep breath, drawing strength from Merlin’s steady hold. It is too much—everything, this, here. He can’t begin to process it.

Arthur stands but doesn’t let go of Merlin. He can’t. “It’s been so long,” he says again, shuddering. He clenches his eyes shut again against the fresh onslaught of tears. _I've loved you for so long_ —

Merlin pulls Arthur impossibly closer, as if he knew what Arthur was thinking. Merlin wraps an arm around him as his other hand buries itself in Arthur’s hair. A homecoming. Arthur melts into his touch. He feels whole and secure, more so than he has for years. The ache he forgot was there is lifted, his heart mending itself with every moment in Merlin’s presence. He has forgotten that he was missing something at all.

"I know," Merlin replies, but he doesn't sound very steady, either. “But you’re here now,” Merlin continues, and his chest rumbles underneath Arthur’s cheek. Arthur lifts a hand and touches Merlin’s back and feels nothing but smooth skin underneath the fabric. _No scar,_ Arthur marvels, his fingers bunching the back of Merlin’s tunic tightly. 

Merlin doesn’t say “it’s destiny, my king,” the way the Merlin he dreams up would. But Arthur supposes that that was never really Merlin.

Merlin’s eyes are shining when he says, instead, “I have been waiting for you too, you know.”

* * *

The sun is beginning to set. They are on the bank of the lake, Merlin sitting with his legs stretched out straight, Arthur’s head on his lap. Merlin’s fingers are carding through Arthur’s hair, and Arthur’s eyes are shut, though he isn’t sleeping.

It’s peaceful, out here. The only things Arthur can hear are the waves lapping along the lakeshore, some birds hooting in the distance. The rustle of leaves in the wind. Merlin’s other hand is splayed on the ground, tendrils of golden magic flowing from his fingers, leaving soft grass and wildflowers in their wake. Arthur sighs, content. Happy.

“I dreamt of you,” Arthur confides, not opening his eyes. “Twenty-nine summers, and it’s still you I see when I close my eyes.”

Age and loss have softened him, teaching him to speak what is truly in his heart. He already knows what it’s like to be too late. It’s a heavy lesson, one that has to be taught over and over again before Arthur finally understands. There are things more important than pride.

“Did you, now.”

“Yes,” Arthur opens his eyes then, peering up at Merlin curiously. “Was it ever really you?”

“No,"

Arthur hums. He knows that too, in his heart, but never had the strength to acknowledge it. Any other moment, and the simple answer would’ve devastated him. Not here, now, with Merlin’s fingers, gentle in his hair.

“What did you dream about?”

“This,” Arthur replies. Exactly this, and thousands of other moments like this. Moments that never happened before—moments that can happen now. An eternity stretches out before them, but Arthur is content to spend it exactly like this. “What is this place, anyway?”

“It's the Lake of Avalon,”

The name sounds familiar, but Arthur can’t quite place where he heard it from. There are multitudes of questions running through his head, things like _how long are we staying here_ , or _where do we go from here_ , or _what does this all mean_.

 _It doesn’t matter,_ Arthur decides. He is here, and so is Merlin. It’s enough for him. He _has_ learnt a thing or two in his long years of living.

They don’t have to be anywhere else.

Arthur closes his eyes again.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to leave this universe alone, I swear, but I was listening to Slow Show by The National and this particular idea just wouldn't leave my head. Just had to write it.  
> Sorry about any mistakes, I really did just bash this one out in one go. Feel free to point them out to me as you see them x


End file.
